


Castle Care

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Nicknames, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have some downtime after a contract and decide to enjoy themselves.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 432





	Castle Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChakolitChip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChakolitChip/gifts).



> This was a fic commission for ChakolitChip and I had an interesting time writing it! It was a lot if fun and I hope y'all enjoy it as well!

It could have been worse, Geralt mused. They could be camped out on a roadside in the middle of the forest surrounding the Lord's castle. They could have been huddled up under a tree with a makeshift lean-to trying to stave off the freezing cold wind and the relentless rain that had pelted the countryside for the last three days, making his investigation that much harder into the contract. Instead, here they were, sprawled in the plush comforters of hearth warmed rooms furnished with only the best the Lord's coffers could buy. A high honor indeed, to be gifted such grandiose accommodations and with little demand in return. Just a simple enough contract and a fortuitous stay out of the rain and away from the leaky roof of the local Inn.

Geralt outlined the rim of his mug, savoring the rich notes of what he assumed was a cherished vintage of liquor. He didn't care much for the pomp and circumstance as long as it burned pleasantly going down and warmed his belly. His golden eyes cast towards the fire as it crackled. His legs stretched out across the rich burgundy rug that cushioned his bare feet from the cold stone floor. His boots were absent, along with most of his clothes other than the thin linen trousers he wore now. The maids had scurried away with it all when they tromped in, mud covered and soaked to the bone from a long day of monster hunting.

He ordered a drink and a hot bath, his white hair pasted to his shoulders where it had fallen from his ponytail. The silver medallion gleaming in the warm firelight. Soft notes carried from the bed where Jaskier was stretched out with all the comfort of an old house cat. His fingers playing skillfully along his strings, teasing out such sweet songs for only Geralt to hear. The lazy smile playing on his lips when the Witcher turned an amber eye on his lover.

His gaze trailing along the open front of his little Lark's shirt. The pale blue silks were a stark contrast against the deeper reds and golds of the canopy bed with its down pillows and heavier blankets to keep the cold of the night away. The weather wasn’t kind to his bard either, with hair dampened and mussed up in odd angles. His cloak had been soaked through and his shoes looked a few threads short of being completely ruined from the long walk through thick forest and narrow steep trails along hazardous hillsides that were treacherous even on good days. Roach handled the trek like a true champion, despite Geralt’s own nervousness for her safety.

Geralt was more than satisfied that the job was done. The problematic monster turned out to be a Noonwraith that was lurking in a clearing nearby. He discovered a young woman had been the victim of some foul play and after some deeper investigation, he had burned the remains that kept her bound to the location and freed her spirit to move on. They managed to finish it all before the storm hit but not fast enough to avoid the long slow ride back to the Castle. 

The Lord was not satisfied yet, given that he couldn’t bring back the head of the monster when it came to Noonwraiths. To ensure he was getting what he paid for, it was negotiated that Geralt and Jaskier would remain in the Castle in the guest wing for the next few days until he was certain no more attacks would follow. Normally, Geralt would be put off by the insult but their accommodations were ensured and all they could ever need to bide their time. With the rain failing to let up, they were stuck within the stone walls but he found it hard to complain. All the luxurious food they could request and good alcohol at just a beckon call. A hot bath at a single word and his clothes were tended to without having to handle it himself on the bank of a muddy river potentially infested with Drowners.

Speaking of a bath, his eyes shifted towards the entrance as the servants knocked, waited for Jaskier’s call of admittance before they were ushered in with hot water for the tub. Geralt breathed in the scent of the steaming buckets, his skin itching with anticipation to submerge himself within. He didn’t often indulge in the luxuries of this lifestyle, after so many years on the Path and all the hardships that accompanied that life. But his standards had shifted somewhat along with his tolerance when a certain Lark strolled into his life and waltzed unbidden alongside him. He couldn’t shake him, no matter the effort put into the task and soon found himself looking forward to his songs and sweet promises.

Even now, as the servants hastily removed themselves from the room after filling the tub, a cordial smile offered in their parting by the eldest of the group and a tiny bow. The witcher didn’t miss the mischievous glint in Jaskier’s smile as he stroked a few final notes to his song before setting his lute aside. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his feet land with an elegant bounce on the floor, rolling on the balls of his feet with an energetic flourish that reminded Geralt of the first few months of their travels. Back in the days when Jaskier’s feet would be blistered and sore from his terrible choice in footwear and the long hours of walking.

At Geralt’s behest, he found far more appropriate shoes for traveling in and had grown rather accustomed to the wear and tear. Most often due to the little sympathies offered by the witcher as he captured the Lark’s legs into his lap while they bedded down for the evenings in the occasional Inn and applied salves and lotions to the affected areas. Strong skilled fingers massaging the knots and aches away with care. The heavenly euphoria on Jaskier’s face drew a smirk of amusement from Geralt, a predatory satisfaction that did things for the Lark just as much as it did for the Wolf that bore it.

The table near the bath was already covered in the bard’s collection of salts, soaps and oils of various scents and uses. He had carefully arranged each and every one of them in the appropriate order he deemed blissful for their baths and lined them in the scent combinations that were the most pleasing to the nose. Both for him and Geralt’s sake. It was the little details like these that Geralt would find himself appreciating more and more. The tiny moments where Jaskier’s actions are tailored for Geralt’s utmost comfort, without the witcher even speaking up on the topic. Geralt made the mistake of assuming he was some witless bard, but his little Lark has as much of a sharp eye for detail as he did a tongue for songs and banter.

What little clothing they were still wearing was shed without a second thought, peeling each piece off in quick succession to join the heaps of the previous garments piled onto the floor. Geralt’s warm palm found its way to Jaskier’s lower back as the bard raised his shirt over his head. The soft sound that grew in his throat would have been missed were it not for the keen hearing of a witcher. Geralt’s lips quirked into a pleased smile as his Lark pressed back into his touch, just a subtle shift of weight in his stance to let the witcher know it was welcomed. A silent invitation closer.

Jaskier climbed into the bath first, raising a quizzical brow when Geralt didn’t immediately follow. The witcher circled the tub, passing a critical eye over the oils and salts for a moment before he started following Jaskier’s routine by memory. He had seen the bard go about this a thousand times over, had memorized every reason and purpose for each little addition. A pinch of the salts, a sprinkle of herbs, a drizzle of oil. The goat's milk soap with cherry blossoms and aloe was best for keeping the skin soft, and was also Jaskier’s favorite. A detail he noticed a few months into their companionship. 

Jaskier smelled like it often, carried on a gentle breeze while Geralt was walking with Roach, the soft fragrance dancing in his nostrils, a signal flare for his bard and the warmth his companionship offered to Geralt’s long and rather lonely life on the path. A scent he missed dearly in the brief weeks when they parted in big cities before catching up in the next town over. To the point, the witcher considered purchasing some in one of the cities if only to soothe his restlessness in his bard’s absence.

With the soap in hand, Geralt joined Jaskier, slipping in behind the bard’s slender frame so he was cradled in Geralt’s lap. A strong arm wrapped around his waist to situate him properly against his chest. The soap slicked easily and with a quick lather across his palms, Geralt started the gentle ministrations across his little Lark’s shoulders and back, his hands spreading against Jaskier’s chest and rolling down along his belly towards his thighs.

“What’s this?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head back so it braced against Geralt’s shoulder. His soft blue eyes peered up at those warm amber orbs that gazed fondly back at him. The glint of determination softened by the adoration dancing within, magnified by the firelight glow in the room

"Bath time." Geralt said bluntly, hiding the small twist of his lips into a tiny smile behind the bard. Jaskier's eye roll and little huff hadn't gone unnoticed by the Witcher though as he continued his trademark avoidance. These days it was more to tease his Lark than to harbor any annoyance towards him and his continuous questioning. These days his Lark had caught on quickly to Geralt's routine behaviors and moods and didn't need to ask so many questions anymore. Their travels were quieter, excluding idle commentary and reminiscing or Jaskier's inquiries into the deeper darker details behind a monster and its existence that only a Witcher could answer.

"You know what I mean." Jaskier rallied back, earning only the smallest of  _ hm's _ from the white wolf. He didn't press further as Geralt's soapy fingers slid down from Jaskier's knees towards his groin. They skated dangerously along his thighs and up his chest in little teasing circles. Jaskier sighed, his cornflower blue eyes fluttered shut with a peach pink blush gathering on his cheeks. The warmth betrayed him as the witcher's calloused fingers trailed wet paths along his neck, following the dips and curves and highlighting his Adam's apple in a tantalizing display.

" _ Geralt. _ " Jaskier breathed.

The call pulled another pleased smile from Geralt's wolfish lips as he bared the tiniest flash of teeth. Jaskier's hair tickled at his scarred shoulders as the bard melted against his chest. The witcher scooped a palm full of water up to dampen the chestnut locks beneath his fingers, carding them through the shaggy lengths. His nails scraped gently against Jaskier's scalp. The bard shivered against his chest and let out a noise which would normally be considered rather embarrassing to hear vocalized but it only furthered the swell of satisfaction in the witcher's chest and the growing arousal for his Lark. Despite the foggy state of the hot water with all the added oils and salts, Geralt could see the result of his diligence and he was rather proud of that fact.

“Hm?” Geralt reached a hand over the side of the tub to grab another bottle from the table, lathering it into his fingers, the soft hints of mint curling up to his nostrils as he started tenderly working it through Jaskier’s hair. His Lark practically purred, melting back into his warm attentive touch as every last strand was well saturated before rinsing it out. He washed his hands clean before returning the gentle ministrations through the bard’s hair, feeling him stretch out in the tub as much as it allowed for their combined size, and relax.

“Is this going where I believe it’s going?” Jaskier asked after a moment, a blissful yawn forming in his throat as he fought it off. His eyelashes fluttered as an errant droplet fell from his brow. Geralt’s palms smoothed over his scalp, fingers curling to splay out the strands in simple combing motions before smoothing it out once more. Each time gathered more of the wily strands into some semblance of style.

Geralt mused at the softly speckled pink across the bard’s cheeks, the warmth that curled up from the bath water and danced so enticingly around them. The soft scent that soaked into every inch of his Lark’s body and made him a meal for the senses. A very delectable and tempting one if Geralt did say so himself.

“That depends.” Geralt hummed dismissively, earning the twist of the bard in his lap as his softened blue eyes gave him a good long hard look. Jaskier’s gaze narrowed suspiciously at the witcher, his breath held in anticipation. He was met only with the tiniest twitch of lips that broke the room into a flurry of motion. Jaskier was pulling himself up out of the bath with Geralt close behind, a strong arm wrapping his little Lark as he captured him in a quick scooping motion.

“Geralt!” Jaskier squeaked as his tiptoes grazed the ground before being hauled up off his feet altogether and deposited rather gracelessly onto the bed.

Jaskier bounced, his arms stretched to support himself, palms flat on the bedding as he moved to sit up, only to find himself caged against the lavish mattress by the strong muscular form of the witcher. A flash of teeth came before Geralt had his bard pressed back into the bedding, his thigh slotted between Jaskier’s legs as his sensitive bits rubbed against the top of the witcher’s leg. Geralt’s hand posted beside Jaskier’s head as he pushed him further back with a growl.

Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed as he gasped, breathing in short huffs, lips damp with saliva and puffy from the force. His tongue darted out in a quick flick that tempted Geralt to capture them for a second round. His patience was denied as he swooped back in, stealing the breath from Jaskier’s lungs as he bit down on the tender flesh of his bottom lip. It wasn’t hard enough to break skin but drew the desired sounds from his Lark as he whined and rolled his hips in tantalizing circles.

Geralt tilted his head, slotting their mouths together with a muffled growl as Jaskier’s arms looped around his neck in a desperate attempt to grapple onto his wolf. The witcher snarled against him, pulling away as his mouth dropped to his throat, outlining his adam’s apple with his lips as he suckled the tender skin, peppering bruises and light bite marks in his path as he dropped lower and lower. Every hiss of air and breathy moan only encouraged Geralt further along. His calloused hands sliding down the length of the bard’s sides, tracing familiar lines along his ribcage and down the curve of his hips. His thumbs rolling circles over the sharp edges of bone and the starched pallor of his skin where the layers of silks kept him covered in modest displays of status.

Inch by inch, he lowered himself along the bard’s body, his mouth capturing his nipples in little twists between his teeth as he suckled and clamped down on the rosy buds. Jaskier sighed softly as warm hands slid back up his side, caressing his pec as Geralt lavished each nipple with a very attentive tongue. Every sigh and dip of Jaskier’s chest let out little muffled sounds that were heavenly to the witcher’s ears. A ringing that only encouraged him as fingers curled into the long damp white locks and curled through the flowing strands, snagging them around nimble song calloused digits and combing back out before swiping to regain purchase. 

Geralt’s mouth drifted down Jaskier’s torso, following the sinking curve of his stomach on a sudden inhale and outlining the shuddering flesh as Jaskier exhaled. His cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded as he gazed down the stretch of his own body to spy the mischievous smile of his wolf. A flash of sharp teeth as he nipped at his hip and left tiny pink marks blossoming in his tracks.

Geralt sat up and smiled as he watched his Lark squirm beneath him, his golden orbs roaming across his body. So willing and desperate. He would just have to fix that, feeding the hunger that grew inside his bard, that fiery need. He leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve Jaskier's bag that was tucked carefully out of the way. A scarf Geralt had purchased for him in the cold Skellige mountains was still safely tucked into the bottom of the pack, and an extra bottle of chamomile oil. With both in hand, he quickly wrapped the scarf around Jaskier's wrists and tied them to the head board after turning the bard around to settle on his knees. A pillow was adjusted to better cushion them, his head stuffed against the bounteous pile at the front as Geralt's rough hands gripped his hips and positioned his ass so it was posed prominently for his intentions.

"Melitele's breath, what are you up to now Geralt?" Jaskier asked, tilting his head to peer over his shoulder at the Witcher. 

Normally it wouldn't be a surprise exactly, but given they were prone to trying all sorts of exciting experiments when it came to their free time, Jaskier didn't put it past Geralt that this was some new mischief he was chasing after. A new idea that popped into his Witcher head as something he has heard of doing or recalled wanting to try in the past. Like the time he convinced Jaskier to have sex in a hot spring or that one time they did it in a Skellige Sauna then raced butt naked through the snow as Geralt hunted him down on the way back to the Inn. Only to be  _ warmed up _ again by his ever vigilant witcher. Or the time they did it in a Beauclair winery and Jaskier found grape juice in some very unforgiving places.

Jaskier's puzzlement was rewarded by the firm swat of a rough palm against his cheeks. It urged a startled sound from his throat as he jolted gently. 

"Nosy." Geralt grunted in amusement as Jaskier squirmed under his gentle massaging hands, slowing rising up and down along his hips and palming over his thighs. His fingertips trailing feather light over the pale stretch of flesh. Goosebumps spread quickly across the expanse as Geralt mused, amber eyes warm and sultry as he inspected the tiny sway of anticipation in his Lark's hips. The cute twitch of arousal bobbing between his thighs, threatening to ruin the bedding beneath.

"Some days you can be such a brute sometimes and I don't know why I'm still surprised by that." Jaskier pouted, the mock hurt in his voice was easy to the witcher's ears. He let out a throaty chuckle and thumbed over the curve of Jaskier's ass, massaging small circles with the pad of his digits before drawing them apart with a firm press.

Jaskier jerked against Geralt when he felt hot breath and warm tongue pressed against his puckered hole. He moaned, a muffled sound against the pillows as it probed against his entrance and prodded around. His toes curled as his body relaxed against the familiar arousal, allowing Geralt to push in further and breach him.

Geralt heard him suck in a sharp breath, a sudden gasp of pleasure that trembled through Jaskier. His hips pressed back into his wolf, urging the Witcher to continue. Geralt's muffled chuckle of amusement was enough to reach Jaskier's ears and paint a pink flush across his face, which he promptly buried into the pillows with a shake and a sigh. It didn't last long as Geralt felt his thighs flex and his body tighten up around his ministrations. The twitch of his cock leaking precum in slow lazy droplets was a satisfying sight.

"Geralt- I... _ Geralt uh! _ " Jaskier started, but whatever protests he attempted were thwarted by Geralt sticking one of his hands with chamomile oil and started graciously massaging Jaskier's cock with it. The firm swipe of a thumb over the head of his cock had his voice reaching a pitch that the Witcher deemed only Siren's could. It almost caused him to stutter in his own activities but he reaffirmed it with a low purr that rumbled through his body into Jaskier.

"Th-this is all well and good- and I don't mean to seem eh  _ oooh that! _ " Jaskier twitched. His wrists pulled lightly against the scarf binding his hands. " _ Th-that that...that is hrgh. Mmhmm…" _

Geralt presumed that meant he was doing a good job. It seemed he unlocked a new, strange and perplexing language in his bard's head. He wondered fondly what it may be called and tucked the questions away to tease his Lark with later.

Jaskier continued his unintelligible jammering to Geralt's delight, mildly interrupted by moans and shuddering breaths as Geralt tilted this way, angled his tongue that way, prodded as deep as he could reach and felt those velvety inner walls clench around him with little whines and gasps. The wet smear of precum stained his knuckles and the unfortunate pillow cushioning his knees.

He slid a wet finger along the curve of his straining cock and felt the heat as he caressed it in his palm. Jaskier’s hips rutted into his touch, grinding eagerly against Geralt’s fingers as he bucked and swayed. Geralt growled lowly, looping a strong arm around Jaskier’s thigh to pull him closer and still him as best he could with only one hand. The firm grasp leaving light bruises against his pale thighs.

Jaskier's voice broke as he rocked back into Geralt's eager tongue working him open. His fingers strayed down his shaft to caress his sack, massaging them between thumb and forefinger as he rolled them around. The brisk caress and firm stroke along the base up towards the tip was greeted with another taunting swipe. The heat that pooled forth from Jaskier's slit was a sticky but welcomed sight for the Witcher as his Lark unraveled in trembling orgasm. His face crashed into the pillows as he muffled his sounds with little huffs of air in between.

Geralt chuckled, straightening up as he licked his lips and let out a noise that bordered on a feline purr. He slicked his hands thoroughly with the oil and stroked his own eager swollen cock thoughtfully. The small sway of Jaskier's hips only enticing him further. He inspected the glossy sheen of the muscle twitching and puckered before relaxing in little flexes at the absence of the wet warmth.

"How cute." Geralt rumbled lowly, outlining the trembling muscle with his finger, smearing more of the oil around with the lazy swipe of his digit. The heat of Jaskier's release was still slick on his fingers as he spread it around the bard's ass. He watched the bard closely as his flushed face peeked out from the pillow to look back over his shoulder. His cock hung half mast between his thighs, stirred back up to interest at the teasing fingers before they pressed inside with a gentle pressure.

Jaskier's entrance gave under the touch and sucked Geralt's two fingers down to the second knuckle. A moan filtered out of the bard's throat as he turned his head to bury it back into the pillows. 

"Sing for me my little Lark. Let me hear your cries." He commanded, stealing Jaskier's attention back just as he crooked his fingers and targeted that special bundle of nerves.

Jaskier let his voice out in a sharp cry of pleasure as his cock hardened with every prod and stroke over his prostate. His hips pressed back into Geralt's diligent fingers as they swiped at his soft inner walls and massaged little teasing circles.

After a moment, the witcher added a third digit, slippery with the oil, the fragrance rising up to his nostrils and filling every breath with a soft overlap with the cherry blossom goat's milk soap from their bath. Geralt twirled his fingers, spreading them wider as he stretched his little bard open, and was rewarded with little sounds as his Lark fucked himself back on his fingers. He sunk his fingers into his walls, caressing them in little motions, gentle swipes and curls of knuckles before he withdrew. Jaskier twitched around the empty space, a long whine filling the air between them as he huffed and looked over his shoulder with bleary eyes. His cock drooling droplets of semen onto the bedding.

"So rude." Jaskier's muffled words were still heard around the scrunched up pillow he attempted to hide in. Geralt let out an amused chuckle as he stroked himself, letting the bard get a good long look at the girth of his cock.

"If I'm so rude, I could just leave you like this." Geralt reminded, his lips twisted into a carefully schooled smile that bordered on something wild and dangerous. A flash of teeth as he cupped the base of his cock and let his sheer length of arousal speak for itself. 

The red faced expression on the bard's face was it's own flavor of outrage and combined speechlessness. He stammered after a moment, stumbling over his words as he recalled how to speak and blurted. "My sincerest apologies I- do please continue!" When Geralt didn't move for a moment, the panic that crossed his face was priceless. The eager and somewhat pitiful shake of his hips as he tried to lean back against Geralt's thighs and grind back into him like a beast in heat. It was endearing to say the least.

_ "Gerrraaalltt."  _ He whined.  _ "Please for the love of all that is holy and righteous in this world." _ He begged. A sound that was far too satisfying to the witcher's ears as he rolled his hips and slid the underside of his cock against the cleft of Jaskier's ass. The wet patch from the oil only furthered the desperate movement in his hips. The far more prominent posturing as he flared them and squirmed.

"Hmmm." The show of mock contemplation looked like it would outright break the bard if he let this go on much longer. Taking pity on a man who once kept bread in his pants, he deemed the bard worthy enough to be graced with blissful relief and the very thing he wanted most of all in the world. At least at the moment.

He shifted around to the side as he reached for the scarf, untying it from the headboard to free Jaskier's hands. The bard stared at him for a long moment of contemplation until it dawned on him. Geralt took Jaskier's spot. Stretching his legs out on the bed, he patted his thighs and propped his back up with the remaining pillows, setting himself up for a wonderful and promising view of his Lark. Jaskier clambered onto the witcher's lap, fingers caressing the weighty girth of Geralt's cock with eager anticipation, lining it up with his entrance. The tip brushed against his opening, pressing gently against the muscle before pushing in. The initial breach pulled a shuddering breath out of Jaskier as he slowly slid down, pulling back up then easing himself down again. Inch by inch, he let his body get accustomed to the size once more.

No matter how many times they did this, he still had to get reacquainted with Geralt's girth. Some days he was convinced he used some kind of witcher magic or potion to make himself bigger. The heat of his presence pushed against his sensitive inner walls as he clenched down on him, seating himself to the hilt with a broken moan. His eyes fluttered shut, head tipped back in little huffs of breath. Geralt smiled, pressing his lips to Jaskier's perky red nipples and lavished them with his tongue in the meantime as his bard adjusted. His fingers resumed their place, cradling the gluttonous globes of flesh that he had spent the last twenty minutes ogling and playing with.

When Jaskier was ready, he started moving, hands planted firmly on Geralt's shoulders for support as he rocked back and forth. A slow steady pace as he worked the sheer size of his witcher in and out, the easy glide was heavenly against his prostate as it slid past with every thrust. his thighs already trembling with the incoming orgasm, a subtle waver in his pace as he stuttered to a stop. His eyes squeezed shut as he held still. Geralt's mouth quirked up into a smile as he pinched a nipple and gave a tug to the nub. Jaskier's eyes opened in surprise. A little jostle of Geralt's hips grinding up against his and Jaskier was unraveling in his lap. The heat of his release painted Geralt's belly shamelessly.

Geralt growled low, a possessive sound that rumbled in his throat as he gripped Jaskier's hips with force. The bard was utterly defenseless against the onslaught as Geralt rolled them forward. Jaskier's legs wound around the witcher's hips as he loomed over him like a dangerous beast, driving himself deeper inside the bard as he lined him to the bedding. Jaskier cried out, a sound that couldn't be silenced even if the Lark wanted to quit his song. His voice lifted to the air as a relentless pace started, drilling into Jaskier's ass and targeting that precious spot that drove him wild. His finger curled into the bedding, winding it up between his knuckles as he shuddered and cried and moaned.

Geralt's stamina was a force to be reckoned with and were it not for the fact they were under voluntary house arrest, Jaskier wouldn't be bearing witness to its ferocity nor its endless hunger. Mostly due to the fact the bard very much won't be walking for a day or two once the witcher gets done with him.

Jaskier's grappled to loop his arms around Geralt's shoulders as he rotted up inside him, hard enough to shake the bed and make it groan in protest. The headboard rang awkwardly and rather loudly against the wall as he fuvked into him. Geralt was certain the entire Keep could hear Jaskier screaming his name and that thought alone only furthered his arousal.

"Sing for the world my little Lark. Tell them who owns you. That you belong to me and only me." He snarled, before biting into Jaskier's shoulder. It wasn't hard enough to break skin but the mark behind would last a few days. The bruises from his attentive trails earlier would last far longer, already darkened with the passing time. He wanted Jaskier to feel him for days, to know every time he undresses, just who he belongs to. He suckled on his neck, just under the jaw where he knew for a fact the bard wouldn't be able to hide behind the fancy colorful collar of his dublets.

Geralt's pace never faltered as he worked Jaskier open thoroughly and desperately, driving him into one orgams after another until his voice broke from the cries of pleasure and his mouth ran with incoherent nonsense about gods and wolves and bliss. Only when he was limp and pliant beneath his touch did Geralt indulge in Jaskier's sobbing demands, tears streaming down the sides of his face and soaking his hairline. Mouth agape and shiny with saliva as Geralt relented and conceded to the request. His pace slowed but the depth did not as he burrowed in deeper and ground against that one spot that had the bard going crazy. It was there that he filled him up with his claim and his love.

"My sweet little Lark." He murmured against Jaskier's neck and the countless marks he left speckled across the bard's body. "You sang for me so well that you lost your song." He hummed, dragging his thumb over Jaskier's bottom lip and watched him suckle on the digit, rolling it around his tongue in a pitiful display. Geralt could smell the bard, his scent soaked into every part of the bed, the sweat and cum mingling with goat's milk, cherry blossoms and chamomile oil. And amidst it all was his own scent, savored amongst the most prominent. His claim on the man that was his and his alone.

Needless to say another bath was in order as Geralt summoned the maids to help change bedding and replenish the hot water. A tray of fresh fruits was brought up with a bottle of fine wine imported from Beauclair. Geralt partook of the drink while they sank into the tub, Jaskier curled up against his chest as he fed him grapes and murmured softly into his hairline. Fingers carding the disheveled and damp locks back as he inhaled the fresh scent of the soap on his skin. The warmth of Jaskier's cheeks, eyes still red and puffy from sex, drooping lazily with the euphoric exhaustion that followed a good long proper fuck.


End file.
